The Bouquet List (15 page)

She may as well have hit him with bullets. His eyes clouded with pain, and she could feel him draw away.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice seemed pathetically small. When the words had formed she hadn’t considered how harsh and cold they’d sound when they were swirling around the room.

“I don’t want sorry.” His voice was calm now, and she could see his face slowly transforming back to the Lane she’d met again on that very first day in the tearoom. The serious brow, the determined look, the aura that said “stay away, you’ll never get to know the real me.” “I just wish I’d never set eyes on you or your goddamn list.” She watched, tears blurring her vision, as he turned and slowly walked out of the restaurant and into the courtyard.

She watched through the window as he marched toward the group of press assembled in the courtyard, and her heart slowly turned to ash. When the sound of his footfalls had faded to nothing, Yasmin reached out for the little plastic cover and, with trembling fingers, pulled out the list inside. How could something so small and innocent, something that had started out so positive and exciting, be the cause of so much heartache?

Chapter Thirteen

The next afternoon, exhausted from battling the overwhelming emptiness inside her, Yasmin sat alone in the apartment and stared out the window.

She hadn’t seen Lane since he’d confronted her about the list yesterday, and it was killing her. She’d known he’d want space, so had waited as long as she could, then early this morning called to ask if they could talk. There was no answer, just a very formal recorded message from the serious and closed person she’d met in the tearoom a lifetime ago, nothing like the voice of the witty and loving man she’d come to know in the past two weeks.

Suddenly, her phone rang and she dived on it, but when she saw Nick’s name on the screen her heart dipped.

“Hey,” she said when she’d connected.

“Have you seen it?” Nick said, breathless. He was obviously walking somewhere very quickly.

“Seen what?”

“The first review of the new-look restaurant is out, and it’s damning.”

Yasmin’s heart seized in her chest. “Why? What did they say?”

Nick’s voice became harsher as he read from the review. “‘The might of the highly successful restaurateur Lane Griffiths seems to have had little impact on the new restaurant at the Aegean Palace. What he was thinking when he installed long, rustic tables for a wedding venue in this millennium can only be guessed at. One must question what impact this might have on his reputation and the flagship restaurant he is about to open in the newest Prescott Hotel.’”

Yasmin’s mouth dried. She hadn’t considered Lane’s reputation being on the line with this renovation. All those times he’d given advice and she’d ignored it. Her throat felt thick as she tried to swallow. He’d called her selfish, and that’s exactly what she’d been. When he’d given in to her crazy ideas, he’d been conceding so much more than she’d realized. Giving her the gift of choice, of freedom, even though it had come back to bite him.

“Is that it?” she asked.

“No, it gets worse. ‘But it was the very public breakdown between the owners’ daughter and Griffiths that left the press reeling. In such a tight market, a happy family wedding venue could do without the bickering between its owner and its adviser.’”

“Oh, God, Nick. I’m so sorry.” She blew out a long breath. “Did Lane tell you what happened between us?”

“I haven’t spoken to him yet,” Nick said quietly, “but I’m guessing things aren’t good. I’m really sorry that it hasn’t worked out between you and Lane, but right now my focus is to minimize the damage for Mom and Dad.”

The empty feeling became an uncharted crater in her chest. He was right—it wasn’t fair to go into detail about what had happened. He and Lane had been friends for a very long time, and she hoped with all her heart she hadn’t destroyed that. “What should we do?”

“I’ve left a message for Lane and I’m waiting for him to call me back, and as soon as I get off this call from you I’m calling Dad. It’s over, Yas. I don’t see how we can survive this. The Palace will have to be sold.”

“No.” Yasmin dragged a hand through her hair. “This can’t be the end. We’ve worked so hard on this, Nick, and I really thought we’d done something great.”

All the hours spent with Lane—planning, arguing, laughing—came rushing back and she couldn’t believe it was all for nothing. She missed him. With every part of her she missed his earnestness and his infuriating attention to detail, the way he encouraged her dreams and the way he followed his own. She missed the tender way he touched her and the shine in his eyes when he smiled.

“Everything’s ready for the launch on Sunday so we may as well go through with it,” Nick said, “but I’m going to suggest to Dad we put the place on the market by the end of next week.”

“I can’t believe it’s come to this.” Her voice caught on the last few words and she dragged in a breath. She wouldn’t cry again.

There was silence for a moment and then Nick said, “No one expected you to perform miracles, Yas. The place was in a sad state and you tried your best.”

“Do you think Lane will show for the relaunch?” Her voice wavered.

“I’ll go over there now and find out. You’re probably right. We have nothing to lose by going ahead on Sunday night, with or without him. At least we might get a couple of positive reviews to counter this one. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Yasmin stood up and walked to the window, the phone still clutched in her hand. She looked out over the courtyard and as the tears began to fall again, she wondered what she’d done. To the Palace, to her father’s hopes and dreams, to her parents’ marriage, to Lane’s reputation, and to her heart.

…

On Sunday evening, Yasmin pushed her way through the swinging doors from the kitchen into the restaurant already filling for the relaunch.

She still hadn’t spoken to Lane. She’d sent a text to say how sorry she was about the review, and he said he’d see her here at the relaunch. Things were well under way now, but there was still no sign of him.

The place was humming with people. In one corner by the beautiful gold drapes she and Lane had picked out, there was an enormous wedding cake with tiny silver trowels sticking out, and people were encouraged to help themselves. A floral designer was walking around, giving out tiny corsages, and a very regal-looking butler was moving among groups with a silver tray of champagne glasses. Another carried traditional Greek baskets containing Leo’s hors d’oeuvres. The long tables she’d fought so hard for and which were so maligned by the reviewer were dressed with white linen and sparkling glassware, and everything had a golden glow from the beautifully polished floor. It was all perfect, the reality of the vision she and Lane had worked so hard to create, and yet there was so much missing as well.

Yasmin saw Genie talking to Paulo and his date in one corner, and in another, Rachel and Mike from the Bluebird Club were talking to a photographer. There were media and local dignitaries, interested businesspeople and prospective clients, and it should have been an incredible occasion, a night full of positivity and excitement.

Without Lane, it felt flat and pointless.

With the backdrop of a string quartet playing Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Yasmin looked toward the door and the courtyard beyond, and tears pushed again at the back of her eyes as she wondered for the hundredth time how they had come to this.

Lane knew the answer. He’d warned her that it would end badly, and she hadn’t listened, had been too wrapped up in the rush of spending all day and night with him. He’d said there was too much to lose, relationships that would be irretrievably damaged, and history that couldn’t be ignored. She’d been too selfish and too interested in what she could gain to listen to any of it.

But none of that helped her find a solution. In the predawn darkness the last two mornings, and with her cheeks damp with tears, she’d hugged the pillow that still carried Lane’s scent, and had failed to work out how she could fix this.

Bottom line was that they had completely different visions for their futures. He wanted a family and security in the city, to be working hard for a life of mortgages and private schools, holiday homes, and investments. In turn, she wanted to travel, tied to nothing and nowhere for as long as she wanted. Maybe children someday, maybe not—there were so many decisions about her life she didn’t want predestined, and yet…she wanted to be with Lane just as much. Ultimately, though, the thought of giving up her dreams was nothing compared to the thought of preventing Lane from living his. She could never ask him to give up a life he held on to so strongly.

Nick was the only person who knew what had happened between them, but they hadn’t discussed it more since their phone conversation. It was as if keeping it all in her own head would stop it from being real, might somehow prevent the final moments of knowing she and Lane were over.

Suddenly, she looked up and there he was.

He hadn’t seen her yet and she stayed frozen to the spot, wanting to savor the look of him, pretend that everything was still the same, that in an instant he’d be striding over here and pulling her into his arms. Her chest ached for all she would never have.

When his eyes finally landed on hers, he gave a nod then moved toward her, his body rigid.

Every single time he’d walked into the room in the last two weeks, her heart had tapped a tango against her rib cage, and this time was no different. What was different was the ache that she could feel in her lips, knowing that they’d kissed the last time, the dull emptiness in her hands that wouldn’t hold his any more. Her heart broke for the fact that they’d simply met at the wrong stage of their lives. If they’d reconnected when they were studying, when her future consisted of no more or less than the desire to get a great job and marry a good man, then they might have had a shot at a life together.

She willed herself to be strong for the remainder of this night; she wouldn’t allow herself to dissolve in front of him or anyone, not after all the hard work they’d done, everything they’d achieved together. This wasn’t about her. It had never been.

“Hey.” He was standing in front of her in a tuxedo, a bow tie sitting perfectly at his neck, not a hair out of place on his head. Just as together and collected as he always was.

But there was a guarded look in his eyes, as if he were protecting himself, and she wanted to grab his hand, beg him to turn the clock back to early Thursday morning so she could live their last moments of togetherness over and over.

“This looks great,” he said. “Can I have a word in private?”

Her jaw ached with the effort to smile, but inside a voice screamed for him to not be so polite. She’d rather he got angry, raged at her and told her what she’d done to him, at least for one last time let her see inside his beautiful, passionate soul.

“Of course. I wanted to talk to you as well. I’m so sorry about the review.”

He shrugged. “It’s only one. I’ve been in this business long enough to know you can’t please all the people all of the time.”

“Yes, but I hadn’t thought about what any of this could do for your reputation.”

He nodded toward the French doors. “The courtyard’s probably the quietest place while everyone’s in here.”

She followed him outside, his broad-shouldered profile impressive within the inky suit, and she remembered the way she’d molded herself into that back in her bed, how she’d slipped her arm around his taut stomach and he’d wound his fingers in hers.

She twisted a piece of hair around her finger. “Lane, I’m so sorry about everything.”

He sat back on the seat and looked up at her. “Sit down.”

She sat next to him, careful not to touch, desperate to have this conversation without disintegrating.

Before she could say anything, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick white envelope. “I want you to have this.”

“What is it?” she asked as she took it from him.

“I guess it’s a bit of an apology, and my way of saying I understand what you need to do with your life.”

She let it sit in her lap and looked into his face, searching for what he was thinking. “Lane, you’re the last person who should apologize. Throughout our whole relationship you’ve been honest and straight up, and I’ve spent my whole time convincing myself that we wouldn’t get hurt, that if we didn’t think about tomorrow we could focus on how incredible today was.”

He shook his head. “It’s been your determination to stay true to what you believe in that’s convinced me to remain true to what’s important to me, too.”

“But I was so reckless. With your reputation and that of the Palace
.
I was so focused on doing what I wanted. And now you want to give me a gift? I don’t know what to say.” She gulped.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just think of it as a thank-you.”

Now tears threatened, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. She wouldn’t cry. “A thank-you for what? I’m the one who should thank you for giving up your life in the last few weeks, for putting up with my madness, for making me feel alive again.”

“And for filling number five on your list.” He grinned.

“And for filling number five on my list.” The last of her words wobbled and she struggled to speak again. “These last few weeks have been the most incredible, beautiful weeks of my life and I can’t imagine spending my days and nights without you,” she said desperately. “How can we fix things?”

He met her gaze with his piercing blue eyes. “I talked to Nick last night, and then I called your father.”

She searched his face. “You called Dad in Greece? To talk about the review?”

“No, I told him I didn’t think he should sell the Palace. I asked if I could stay on here to ensure that all the changes we’ve made are embedded and to manage the turnaround that I believe will begin to happen here. He agreed.”

Her mouth dried and she frowned. “You’d do that? But you have your dream project starting any day. How could you make it work?”

“The hotel restaurant was my dream project because it was my passion, but now I’ve found another one. I told your father that spending time here had made me realize that at the heart of what I love about the restaurant business is relationships and people, togetherness and family. I want to help get those things back for the Palace.”

“But how could you manage two places at once?”

Grace put her head around the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Lane, but one of the reporters wants to speak to you.”

He stood up. “I should get back.”

She stood and touched his arm, her head spinning from all he’d just told her. She held up the envelope. “You still haven’t told me what you’re thanking me for.”

He took a deep breath and then paused before looking her directly in the eye. “You made me remember. Remember how fun life can be, how it’s important not to take things too seriously, but at the same time not to lose sight of what’s important. I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you, Yasmin, but now it’s time for you to finish what you’ve started, set yourself new goals to meet. Just know that I’ll never forget you. Oh, and so there’s no confusion, I still intend to stay close to your family, to Nick and your parents, and I hope that won’t be a problem for you.”